Landoscar oneshots

Chapter 15:The Crash

Oscar could barely hear the radio over the chaotic noise in his helmet. The engine's roar, the wind whipping through the cockpit, and the tense atmosphere of the race drowned everything else out. He was focused, hands steady on the steering wheel as he navigated the high-speed corners of the circuit. Lando was just ahead of him, his car a flash of neon green as they battled for position.

But then, it happened.

One second, everything was normal. The next, Oscar saw Lando's car veer off the track, straight into the barrier. The impact was sickening, and Oscar's breath hitched in his throat.

"No, no, no..." he whispered, his heart hammering in his chest. He immediately slowed down, trying to get a glimpse of Lando's car as he passed. It was crumpled against the barrier, the front completely destroyed.

The radio crackled in his ear, but Oscar wasn't listening anymore. His mind was racing, panic threatening to take over. He hadn't seen Lando move. Hadn't seen anything.

Was he okay?

Oscar's hands shook as he tried to focus back on the race, but his vision blurred as his eyes darted toward the wreckage in the rearview mirror. There was no response on the radio about Lando's condition. He couldn't think straight. Everything was a blur.

"Is he—?" Oscar's voice broke, and he couldn't finish the question. He didn't want to. But silence followed, and it was unbearable.

Lap after lap went by, but nothing felt real anymore. Oscar's grip on the wheel tightened, his knuckles white. Why wasn't anyone saying anything? Was Lando still in the car? Had he—

No. He refused to let his mind go there.

Oscar finished the race, but it felt like a distant memory already. The moment he crossed the finish line, he tore off his helmet and jumped out of the car, shoving past the media, ignoring the cameras. He needed to see Lando. He needed to know.

The paddock was a blur of worried faces, but nobody seemed to have answers. It was like time had slowed down, and every second without information was agony. Finally, he saw McLaren's garage, where people were huddled, whispering in worried tones. He sprinted there, not caring about how desperate he looked.

"Where is he?" Oscar demanded, breathless, eyes wild as he searched for answers. "Where's Lando?"

A mechanic shook his head. "They just took him to the medical center. We don't know yet."

Oscar's heart plummeted. It was worse than he thought. He couldn't wait any longer—he needed to see for himself. Without a word, he turned and ran toward the medical center, his pulse pounding in his ears. He pushed open the doors, chest heaving, eyes scanning the room.

And there he was.

Lando, sitting up on the examination bed, looking dazed but alive. His eyes met Oscar's, and a weak smile tugged at his lips. Relief washed over Oscar so suddenly he nearly collapsed.

"Mate," Lando muttered, his voice raspy but teasing, "you look like you've seen a ghost."

Oscar didn't know whether to punch him or hug him. So he did both. His fist lightly hit Lando's shoulder before he pulled him into a tight embrace, ignoring the surprised chuckle from the other driver.

"Don't ever do that again," Oscar muttered into Lando's shoulder, his voice barely audible. Lando was still laughing softly, but there was a seriousness in his eyes as he pulled back.

"Sorry, mate," he said quietly, his smile fading slightly. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Oscar shook his head, pulling back but still gripping Lando's arm as if making sure he was real. "Just... don't."

They sat there in silence for a moment, the tension slowly easing as the reality of the situation settled in. Lando was okay. He was alive.

That was all that mattered.